Autumn Violins
by bertiebert
Summary: After Jeanne, Francis didn't think anyone could hold his heart as she had until he meets Mr. Alfred, Matthew's kindergarten teacher. They strike up a romance, Alfred's relationship with Matthew becomes as strong as steel, and Francis realizes just how special his child truly is.
1. Chapter 1

_**yes, yes I know that I shouldn't be starting yet another multi-chapter fanfic, but this idea just would not leave me alone. so this was born and I hope you all enjoy it. review and tell me what you think!**_

_**note: this fic is rated M for future (yet vague) sexual themes. the fact that has been taking down Mature fics without much notice because of simple and fixable things leads me to rate this fic as M just as a precaution. please understand that I do not plan to make this a very sexual story since it was written about the relationship between Alfred, Francis, and Matthew and nothing more.**_

* * *

Gazing through the window of the nursery, Francis regarded his new son with something akin to miserable disdain. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes. It had been seconds after Jeanne had given birth to their _Mathieu_ that her heart complications began. They had been warned that it was a possibility, but the couple had hoped the odds were in their favor. Wispy blond hair stuck up off _Mathieu's_ head and indigo eyes were closed as he slept. Francis felt his heart turn over in his rib cage as he watched his child sleep. Despite wanting nothing more than to take _Mathieu_ and Jeanne home together, he vowed that he would be the best father to his son if Jeanne didn't make it out of the hospital. He could never abandon this beautiful creature.

The tears flowed freely when the surgeon told Francis the news. Jeanne's heart had been much too weak to take the strain of childbirth and it had killed her. Francis left the doctor sitting there and bolted towards the nursery. Through his tears he asked to hold his son and he sat, cradling _Mathieu_ close and kissing his forehead. Indigo eyes flickered around and tiny hands reached up to touch Francis's face. He kissed _Mathieu's_ palm, holding it against his cheek.

"Oh, _mon petit,_ _mon garçon précieux_. I promise you that I will always be there. I will never leave you, _ma douce. Je vous donne ma parole._"

* * *

Despite his nature, Francis stayed away from dating while _Mathieu_ was growing up. He moved to Quebec City to raise his son and opened a restaurant. Their spacious apartment resided above the restaurant, and Francis had no trouble caring for _Mathieu_ and running the business. His employees were kind and respectful, eager and helpful. If Francis needed someone to hold _Mathieu_ while he finished off a dish_, _it was usually Laura that would take him.

Francis's best friends, a divorced Spanish sous-chef and a German chef saucierwho swore by staying single, were always eager to hold and coo at _Mathieu_ until he calmed if something startled him. Of course, the child was always kept as far from stoves and hot dishes as possible. Francis struggled with letting _Mathieu_ stay with a sitter so his employees were always willing to help out.

When _Mathieu_ started school at five, Francis was glad to have him away from the kitchen but sad to see him go. He came home every afternoon with a new story and absolutely raved about his teacher, Mr. Alfred. Francis just smiled and kissed _Mathieu _on the forehead before setting his snack down in front of him. Despite his attempts, Francis was unable to keep his employees and the children at school from calling _Mathieu_ the American form of his name. _Mathieu_ seemed to prefer the other form of his name, so Francis relented. _Mathieu_ became Matthew around others but his name stayed French on his birth certificate.

Francis took off an evening to attend Matthew's school's Parent's Night. He allowed himself to be dragged into the school by his son and showed around Matthew's classroom.

"_Papa_, lift me up. I want to show you the solar system mobile I helped Mr. Alfred set up," Matthew chirped, little hands fisted in Francis's sweater.

Grinning, Francis hefted Matthew into his arms, allowing his boy to point excitedly at his favorite planet and attempt to name all eight of them.

Francis turned when an unfamiliar voice boomed, "Mattie!"

"Hi, Mr. Alfred," said Matthew, suddenly timid.

"Aw, don't be shy with me, kiddo. We've been buds for a few weeks now; I thought we were past that stage?" Mr. Alfred positively beamed at Matthew, and Francis felt something in his chest unfurl warmly.

Matthew smiled shyly and seemed to remember who was holding him. "Mr. Alfred, this is my _papa._"

Mr. Alfred turned his smile on Francis, nudging his glasses further up his nose. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Matthew has told me a bit about you already."

Francis held Matthew with one arm, startled at how light his son was, and shook the young man's hand. "He has told me some things about you as well."

"All good, I hope," the teacher laughed, that smile making Francis's knees weak.

"Oh, of course. He just raved about your lessons on…what was it, _Mathieu?_" Both Francis and Mr. Alfred looked to the boy, who flushed and half tucked his face against Francis's throat.

"The maple trees here in Canada," was Matthew's hushed reply.

"Really? Well, I'm glad you liked that, Mattie. How about I bring you some maple leaves from the trees behind my house? You could press them in a book," Mr. Alfred offered, idly watching a child run by them with their parents in tow.

"I'd like that," Matthew answered, smiling widely. "_Papa_, can I go talk to my friend, Miguel? He's over there with his parents."

"Of course, _ange_. Stay where I can see you," Francis crooned, setting Matthew down and smoothing his son's hair. With Matthew out of earshot, Francis turned to Mr. Alfred. "How does he do in your class?"

Scratching the back of his head, Mr. Alfred sighed a little disappointedly. "He's extremely quiet, hardly ever speaks to anyone besides Miguel and I, but he's a respectful boy and a very good student."

"The only time he talks to me is if he needs something signed for school. I run a restaurant and my friends that work for me practically helped raise him. Sometimes I feel as if he thinks they're his parents," Francis groaned, watching his son approach the dark-skinned boy across the room. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that much. I apologize, Mister—"

"Call me Alfred," the young man asked, blue eyes sparkling. "Please."

"Alfred, then."

"And," Alfred continued quickly, "it's alright. I don't mind."

Suddenly, a bell rang through the room and children sought out their parents. Matthew pressed himself against Francis's leg, peering up at Alfred with big indigo eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, alright? Don't give your dad a hard time," Alfred teased, touching Matthew on the top of the head.

Matthew nodded, smiling crookedly, and tugged on Francis's hand. "Come on, _Papa._ Uncle Toni said he would make us _paella _for dinner."

"Alright, _cher,"_ Francis purred to Matthew, stroking a soft, round cheek. To Alfred, he said, "It was very nice to finally meet you, Alfred."

"You as well. Have a good evening," Alfred replied sweetly, grinning brightly with those deep dimples of his.

Francis felt his stomach flutter and his cheeks heat up. It had been a long while since someone had evoked such a reaction from him.

* * *

**Translations (French to English):**

_mon petit,_ _mon garçon précieux -_ my boy, my precious boy_  
__ma douce - _my sweet


	2. Chapter 2

**_Someone that has given me fabulous compliments and critiques told me that they felt the story was too rushed. So I went back and wrote this whopper of a chapter to fix that. I hated to think that I had cheated the readers (and myself) of a love story. I felt that I had indeed rushed it, but I only skipped over things to hide the fact that I was self-conscious about the way I wrote the beginnings of relationships. This isn't much of the relationship between Alfred and Francis, but it gives more background to the goings on of the characters after they meet. Plus Matthew is just a cutie. I hope you like this chapter a little better._**

**_for good measure, Miguel is Cuba, Katyusha is Ukraine, and Lars is Netherlands_**

* * *

"Francis," Gilbert said, letting Matthew down off his lap to scamper over to his father. "How is this going to affect Matthew? You can't jeopardize his schooling just to get in his teacher's pants."

"Gilbert," hissed Francis, glaring at the albino and dipping his head in Matthew's direction. "And we haven't even spoken aside from some things about _Mathieu's_ time in school. Here you are, darling, tell me how that tastes."

Matthew took the sautéed mushroom from Francis's long fingers and immediately put it in his mouth. He made a delighted noise and fisted his little hands in Francis's apron. "Good, _Papa._"

"Good? They're just _good_?" Francis scoffed, tone teasingly shocked.

"Uhh, they're…they're dee—no—deli…cious," Matthew attempted, looking to his _papa_ for a reply.

The bright smile he received made Matthew grin back. "Very good, _amour._ Here, take your juice and go watch some television while Uncle Gil and I talk."

Matthew clutched his Sippy-cup to his chest and pattered over to the television, little fingers finding the power button easily. He plopped himself on his favorite floor-cushion and was immediately entranced by the show. Francis smiled wistfully as he watched his child, a sense of pride and adoration swelling in his chest. He turned back to his cooking and Gilbert, who was reclining in a chair at the kitchen table and growing increasingly annoyed at the Frenchman.

"You can't seriously think this isn't going to end badly, Francis. This guy could totally break your heart in about a week, and then Matthew would have to go back to school and face the man who wrecked his father. Do you really want to bring someone into Matthew's life right now? He's still so young and volatile. Are you even going to be able to move on from Jeanne for a _man_?

"I don't want you to be hurt, Francis. I care for you and Mattie more than anything and I don't want to have to pick up the pieces if this doesn't work out. Put Matthew first, Francis, or I will intervene until you understand that this might tear your family apart." Gilbert practically spat the words at Francis, who didn't respond and pushed the chicken and mushrooms around the pan.

Just as he drew in a shaking breath to respond, Antonio burst through the door with bags in hand.

"_Hola_, Francis, Gilbert," he trilled, grinning with green eyes sparkling.

Little feet thumped against the tiles and Antonio set the bags down on the kitchen table before sweeping Matthew into his arms.

"Mattie, it's so great to see you. It feels like I haven't seen you in so long," Antonio feigned overexcitement, holding Matthew close and kissing his cheeks until the boy squirmed.

"Uncle Toni, I saw you on Monday. That was just two days ago," Matthew said matter-of-factly, his pale eyebrows pulling down in confusion.

"Was it just two days ago? I suppose it was. Well, I'm still so happy to see you." Antonio smoothed Matthew's hair and smiled at the boy.

He walked closer to his friends, ruffling Gilbert's hair and rubbing Francis's back. "How've you been, Francis? What's this I hear about a love interest?"

Francis gave Antonio a look out of the corner of his eye and just sighed, adding a little white wine to the pan. Antonio looked back at Gilbert, who didn't meet his eye, and automatically felt the tension.

"Matthew, sweet boy, your _papa_, Uncle Gil, and I need to talk about some adult stuff. Can you go to your room for a little while? Please?" Antonio pleaded with the child, stroking Matthew's cheek.

Matthew gazed uneasily at his three caretakers and nodded timidly. Before he could pad off to his room, Francis snagged his T-shirt and pulled him back. He crouched and enveloped Matthew in his arms.

"_Je t'aime, Mathieu._ Always remember that, alright?" Francis cupped Matthew's face in his hands, gazing into dark blue eyes and allowing him a moment to bask in his child's beauty.

Cupid's bow lips quirked upwards just a bit and Matthew leaned in to kiss Francis quickly. His kiss landed near the corner of Francis's mouth, and the Frenchman laughed. He tucked Matthew's hair away from his face and patted him on the backside.

"Give us a little privacy, _doux._ We'll come get you when dinner's ready," Francis promised, blowing Matthew a kiss before his door closed with a soft click.

* * *

Alfred ran a hand through his hair, putting another sticker on a worksheet. He shuffled through the piles to locate the next sheet to receive a star and came to a familiar name.

_Matthew Bonnefoy_

The name was shaky but effort had obviously been put into handwriting, and Alfred felt his heart swell. He adored how sweet Matthew was in class and the little smile he had whenever he heard Miguel say something funny. Finding his sheet of special stickers, Alfred put a polar bear sticker on Matthew's drawing. He'd seen Matthew tentatively hold a stuffed polar bear before shoving the stuffed animal in his cubby and joining the other kids early on in the school year.

Despite the late hour, Alfred heard a knock on the doorframe of his room. He glanced up to see his neighboring teacher, Arthur Kirkland, and smiled.

"Hey, friend," Alfred called, sitting back in his chair as Arthur crossed the room.

Since college, Alfred and Arthur were close but fought like siblings. They could be screaming and throwing things one moment and making up with plans for ice cream the next. Arthur taught first grade and was eager to get Matthew the next year from what he'd heard from other teachers.

"What are you doing here so late?" Arthur asked, sitting on the edge of Alfred's desk.

"I could ask you the same thing," Alfred replied cheekily, grinning at Arthur. "I'm just trying to catch up on some work and think over some things."

"Things like what?" Arthur picked up the topmost drawing on Alfred's desk. It was Matthew's and Alfred felt a little protective of the paper. "This is good. Who drew this?"

"Matthew Bonnefoy, the boy you really want next year. He's an absolute angel," raved Alfred, organizing a stack of papers.

"Now, what kind of things are you thinking about?" Arthur asked again, pulling Alfred's chair closer to him. "Spill."

Alfred sighed, the noise pitifully weak, and let his shoulders droop. "Matthew's father and I kind of hit it off at Parent's Night and I really like him, but I don't want to mess up my career or Matthew's school life or Francis's entire life. I don't know what to do."

"He's French, isn't he?"

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded. "Yeah, so is Matthew."

"Bloody hell, Alfred. Alright, I'll try to be gentle about your situation. You need to talk about this with…Francis. He will be the one to really guide you, because you two know your limits. I'd also talk to Vargas to make sure you won't break any laws or step on any toes. Just be careful," Arthur warned, ruffling Alfred's hair before standing. "I'm going home for the night. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Alfred replied, lost in thought and concern.

* * *

Despite noting how Matthew moved sluggishly through his morning routine and refused much breakfast, Francis was forced to send him to school. He had a very busy day and wouldn't be able to take care of Matthew if he stayed home. Francis kissed the boy goodbye, watching him clamber out of the car a little unsteadily. All thoughts of the boy's actions were forgotten when Francis was bombarded with issues once he returned to the restaurant.

…

Alfred was retrieving extra construction paper and markers from a cabinet when someone tugged on his pants. He glanced down underneath his arm, finding Miguel's dark eyes peering back up at him. Smiling, he turned back and brought down the supplies.

"What is it, Miguel?" He asked, stepping around the boy to place the paper and markers on an empty desk for the children to take if they needed more.

"I don't think Mattie feels very good. He's not coloring and he looks sick," Miguel replied anxiously, wringing his hands in front of his brightly colored shirt.

Automatically, Alfred's mood changed and he touched Miguel's shoulder. "Where is he, kiddo?"

"Over here next to me, Lars, and Kat." Miguel led Alfred over to a secluded table, the favorite table of the four friends.

As Miguel had said, Matthew wasn't coloring but had his head resting on his arms on the table. His face was pale save for his cheeks which were a bright scarlet, almost matching the red and white sweatshirt he wore that day. Alfred recognized the sweatshirt as Matthew's favorite one to wear. He always shyly showed it off to his friends, running little fingers over the big maple leaf in the middle. Alfred pressed against Miguel's shoulder and patted his chair to have the child sit. He approached Matthew carefully and crouched beside the boy. Lars and Katyusha stopped coloring when Alfred appeared and watched their teacher closely.

"Matthew," Alfred called softly, letting his hand rest on Matthew's back. He could feel the weak rising and falling of the child's breaths. "Are you alright?"

Matthew picked his head up shakily, peering at Alfred through glossy indigo eyes. He took a shuddering breath and just stared at Alfred pitifully. Alfred didn't hesitate to collect the boy into his arms and stand. Holding Matthew close, Alfred poked his head into Arthur's room next door. His children were taking a spelling test so it seemed.

"Arthur, I have to take one of my kids down to the nurse. Can you watch the rest of them for a minute or two?" Alfred asked after beckoning the other teacher over.

"Yes, of course. I don't mind," Arthur assured him, and Alfred turned swiftly on his heel.

The nurse, a sweet, young woman named Lili, immediately fussed over Matthew. He just sat on the cot, swaying a little, and allowed her to take his temperature and so on until she deemed him too ill to be in school. As Lili called Francis, Alfred stayed near Matthew and watched over him protectively.

"Were you feeling like this before you came to school, Matthew?" Lili asked him when she returned, smoothing his wavy hair comfortingly.

Alfred stayed with Matthew until his father came. When Francis appeared in the doorway, he was flushed and panting, wearing his uniform from the restaurant. He darted over to Matthew, immediately kneeling in front of the boy and cooing in quick, honey-sweet French. Matthew let his father smooth his hair away from his face and feel his forehead without a fight. His little hands were holding onto the cuffs of his sweatshirt sleeves and he blinked slowly. Finally, Francis scooped Matthew up into his arms, cradling the child close, and thanked the other two.

"I had no idea that he was feeling so unwell this morning. He seemed a bit sluggish, but I thought he was just tired. Thank you for taking care of him until I could get here," Francis said, tangling long fingers in Matthew's silky hair and massaging his scalp soothingly. The boy melted into his father's arms, cuddling close and breathing deeper.

"It was no problem, Mr. Bonnefoy. Matthew's such a sweet boy, and I hated to see him so sick. I'm sure he'll feel much better in a day or two," Lili replied, smiling and giving a little wave to Matthew as Francis moved to the doorway.

As Alfred followed him out, he remembered Matthew's bag sitting next to his chair in the classroom.

"Matthew's backpack is still in the room. If you'll wait here, I'll run go get it for you," Alfred explained to Francis who nodded and situated Matthew more comfortably in his arms.

When Alfred disappeared down the hall and back into the classroom, Matthew sat back in his father's arms. Francis braced a hand on the boy's back and smiled comfortingly at him.

"You should have told me you weren't feeling well this morning, _chéri_. I hate to think that I sent you to school when you were so sick," Francis crooned, tucking some of Matthew's hair behind his ear. "What kind of sick are you?"

Matthew rubbed his eye and sighed weakly. "My tummy feels odd."

Francis cursed wildly to himself, but smiled for his son. "We'll get you feeling better in no time, darling, I promise."

"I don't want to leave Mr. Alfred, though. I want to stay," muttered the child, staring down the hall as his teacher reappeared from the classroom with Matthew's backpack.

"You can't stay, _Mathieu_, I'm sorry. You don't feel well and I don't want you to get sick while you're here. I'd rather you be at home with me, Aunt Laura, and Uncle Gil, alright? That way we can take care of you. Mr. Alfred will understand, sweet."

"What will I understand?" Alfred asked, smiling brightly at the pair when he returned.

"That Matthew needs to go home. He wants to stay," Francis stated as he rubbed Matthew's back softly.

"Your _papa's_ right, Mattie, you need to go home and rest. I'll still be here when you come back, I promise. If you feel up to it, color me a picture while you're at home and I'll hang it up when you get back, okay? How does that sound?" Alfred soothed, handing Matthew's pack over to Francis. Their fingers brushed and Alfred felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Alright," Matthew mumbled softly, tucking himself against Francis's chest and shoulder. He looked very tired. "Bye, Mr. Alfred."

"Bye, little buddy. I hope you feel better." Alfred smoothed Matthew's hair and smiled at Francis.

"Thank you for watching over him. He trusts you quite a bit, and I'm sure he was glad you were there. I appreciate it," Francis told Alfred, keeping his voice low as Matthew was snuffling lowly against his neck. He made the soft noise in the back of his nose and throat when he was attempting to get comfortable enough to sleep.

"It wasn't a problem," Alfred assured him, giving the single father a soft smile. After a moment of hesitation, Alfred gathered enough courage to say, "Listen, I talked to the principal and the school board and I was wondering if you'd like to go out sometime. We could get dinner, just you and me."

Francis held Matthew close, swaying a bit to ease the child into sleep, and smiled against curly blond hair. "I'd like that, Alfred. I'd like that a lot."

Alfred let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and grinned. "Great. Here's my cell number. Call anytime and tell me when you're free."

With two fingers, Francis took the slip of paper that Alfred had ripped off a flyer on the corkboard outside the nurse's office. He didn't look at it right then, but held it tightly.

"If you don't mind, give me an update on Matthew in a few days. I'd like to know how he's doing," Alfred said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I'll do that," Francis agreed, smiling despite himself. When Matthew's fingers curled in his shirt and he made a quiet noise of discomfort, the Frenchman started. "I should get him home. Thank you again for being with him. I'll let you know how he's doing."

"Alright, I'll talk to you later." Alfred smiled brightly and gave them a little wave as Francis turned to leave.

The children immediately knew something had gone on when Alfred bounded back into the classroom and decided to break out his guitar. They asked him, but he just told them someone had made him very happy.


	3. Chapter 3

_**this was previously chapter 2 of this story, but because I replaced this chapter with one involving more background, this will become chapter 3. Enjoy!**_

* * *

October blended seamlessly into November. Matthew tried his best to be more involved at school, answering more questions and making a few new friends. Francis, making more of an effort to be a part of his son's life, took him out every couple of days to do anything he wanted. Usually it involved the library or a new set of crayons. Although he was away from the restaurant, his employees practically shoved Matthew into his arms and slammed the door behind him.

In order to hear from Alfred more frequently, Francis e-mailed him every week to get an update on Matthew. Their conversations turned from Matthew's class work to some of Matthew's favorite things to some of Francis and Alfred's favorite things. Despite his desire to keep partners from coming and going from Matthew's life, Francis wanted nothing more than to draw Alfred in close and never let him go. He didn't know if a relationship with Alfred would last, but he was very willing to try. Once he received Alfred's assent, he sat Matthew down one evening for dinner while Antonio handled things downstairs.

"_Mathieu_, how would you feel if Mr. Alfred and I started seeing each other?" Francis asked gently, stroking a piece of Matthew's blond hair behind his ear.

It was quiet for a moment, Matthew's indigo eyes searching the table for _anything_ to look at besides his father. "I'm not sure, _Papa_. I don't want Mr. Alfred to lose his job. Would that happen?"

This had, of course, crossed Alfred's mind as well as Francis's, but Alfred had spoken with the school board to make sure nothing would be jeopardized. Since no laws prohibited it and Alfred promised, on his life, that he would not favor Matthew in any way, they saw no problem in letting Francis and Alfred pursue a relationship.

"He wouldn't, darling. We've spoken with your school, and they saw nothing wrong with us being in a relationship. Now, if you're uncomfortable with Mr. Alfred coming over and spending time with us, then you need to tell me. I won't be upset, I promise," Francis explained patiently, hooking a finger underneath Matthew's chin to draw his gaze up. "You can tell me anything, my sweet_._"

"I-I'd be okay if Mr. Alfred came over. Could I just call him Alfred then?" Matthew's voice was sugary and lilting, warming Francis to the core.

"You can call him Alfred when he's here with us, but not at school. How does that sound?"

Matthew nodded quickly, almost excitedly, and grinned. Francis hadn't seen that smile for a long time and he couldn't hold back his answering smile.

"Finish your dinner and then we can call Alfred together and tell him," Francis crooned, kissing Matthew on the top of the head as he stood. "_Je t'aime, ma chérie._"

"_Je t'aime, Papa_," Matthew trilled, looking back at his father before digging into his chicken and Spanish rice that Antonio had made for him.

When Matthew set his plate in the sink, Francis bundled him up in his pajamas and a blanket on his lap in their favorite chair. With his smart phone, Francis dialed Alfred's cell phone number and set it to speaker.

"Hello?" came the bright, cheerful answer.

"Hello, Alfred," Francis replied, smiling at Matthew.

"Francis! Hi, there. How've you been?" Alfred asked, so sticky sweet and lovely.

"I've been well, thank you. I have Matthew here and I think he has something he wants to tell you," Francis teased, tapping Matthew on the hip.

Starting slightly, Matthew sat up straighter to be closer to the phone. Francis held it out to him, letting his little voice carry over the phone to Alfred.

"Mister—I mean, Alfred, I-I wouldn't mind if you and _Papa_ saw each other," Matthew blurted, hiding his face in Francis's throat.

Francis chuckled and stroked his son's hair. "He's very excited to see you more often, as am I."

Alfred laughed. "Thank you, Matthew. I appreciate your blessing. How about we go to the aquarium on Saturday, hm?"

"Yeah!" Matthew squealed, almost knocking Francis in the face.

"Shhh, calm down_._ That sounds delightful, Alfred. We'll meet you there around eleven," Francis crooned, kissing Matthew on the forehead.

"It's a plan," Alfred agreed. "I need to finish some things, but I'll call again soon."

"Of course. _Bonne nuit_, Alfred."

"Good night, Alfred," Matthew chirped, curling into Francis's arms.

Alfred laughed, a rich sound that made Francis's butterflies return. "Good night, Mattie. Sleep tight."

"Sleep well, Alfred. We'll talk later," Francis purred, almost hearing Alfred shiver on the other end of the line.

"You, too. I'll see you later."

"_Oui._"

When they hung up, Matthew was snuffling softly as he attempted to situate himself in Francis's arms.

"Hush now, precious. Let's get you to bed," Francis cooed, standing and pocketing his phone as he rocked Matthew a little. "You're almost too big to do this, _Mathieu._"

"_Non_," Matthew whined, clinging to Francis.

Having seen Matthew around the other children at school, Francis saw how tiny his son was compared to them. Being born premature and to a mother with a weak heart, Matthew struggled to keep up with his peers. Francis just cradled him closer and kissed his shoulder.

"Shhh, that doesn't mean I'll stop holding you. We'll still have our chair time every evening. I promise." Laying Matthew down in his bed proved to be a struggle, but soon the young boy's arms slackened and he was rubbing his eyes.

"Tomorrow's Friday, _cher_, and we can go do something fun together after school, alright? Then, the next day is Saturday and we get to go to the aquarium with Alfred," Francis murmured, smoothing Matthew's comforter over his back.

Once Francis knew Matthew was asleep, he crept back out and into his own bedroom. Readying himself for bed, Francis lounged against the headboard and dialed Alfred once again. That sweet voice answered, sunny and beautiful in Francis's ear,and it made the Frenchman shudder delightedly.

"Have I told you that I adore your voice, _cher_?" Francis sighed, holding the phone close as he listened to Alfred chuckle.

"I don't think so, but thank you." Alfred's voice was soft, almost shy. "Your voice reminds me of…honey and something warm."

Francis laughed under his breath, grinning. He swallowed and dropped his voice lower. "How does my voice affect you, darling? Tell me."

A breathy gasp and Alfred cleared his throat before losing his confidence. "I can't…"

"It's alright. I'll let you go considering you have school tomorrow. I can't wait to see you."

"Mmm, I know. And, not that I'm not eager to see you, but I'm excited to see Matthew as well out of school. He's such a sweet boy, and I'm glad I can get to know him better," Alfred admitted, and Francis heard him shift around.

"That makes me so happy to hear, _pois de senteur_. I think that you have brought _Mathieu_ and me closer together and I should thank you for that." Francis's eyes were suspiciously wet, but he just let Alfred's voice wash over him.

"I'm glad that you're closer to him, but I don't think it was me," Alfred muttered. "But, I need to get off, sweetie. I'm very tired."

"I apologize, _mon amour_. Sleep well," Francis soothed, wishing Alfred was there for Francis to kiss goodnight and hold while he slept.

"Thank you, Francis. You, too. We'll talk tomorrow. Goodnight." Alfred's voice was getting softer and drowsier.

"Goodnight, Alfred," Francis said, hushed and comforting in the dim room.

Hearing Alfred's gentle breathing, Francis smiled and listened for another few moments before hanging up. He turned off his lamp and settled down, but it felt like minutes later that Matthew was shaking him awake.

"What is it, _Mathieu_? What's the matter?" He asked, sitting up quickly.

A tiny body scrambled up into the bed with Francis, pressing into the Frenchman's arms. Francis tucked Matthew close, the silent paternal understanding dawning on him.

"Hush, _ma petite colombe_, I'm here. I've got you," murmured Francis, smoothing Matthew's hair and wiping tears away. "What was your dream about, _chéri?_ Tell me."

Soft, gasping sobs was the only answer he got for a moment before Matthew rubbed his face against the shoulder of Francis's sleep shirt. "You and Alfred and me were out somewhere, I don't know where, and…and I got separated from you. Then I tried to find you, but it took me a long time. I finally did find you and…" Matthew swallowed against his tears, peering up at his father with watery indigo eyes. "…you and Alfred were talking about finally being rid of me. Is that true, _Papa?_ Do you want to get rid of me?"

Francis's heart constricted painfully when he saw the genuinely worried and pained look on his child's face. "No, of course not, _Mathieu_. Of course not. I would never want to get rid of you. You make my life so much brighter, _petit_. Always remember that you are loved by me. No one else in this world means as much to me as you do."

Matthew attempted to hold back another sob, but failed and buried his face in his hands. Francis carded his fingers through Matthew's wavy blond hair, pulling it away from his face and neck.

"Relax, darling_._ You're safe now, and I love you more than anything in this world. Don't worry about anything, _ma douce Mathieu_. Why don't you stay in here with me tonight?" Francis offered gently, kissing Matthew on the forehead. "I'll protect you."

Nodding miserably, Matthew allowed Francis to lay them both down and cuddle him close.

* * *

Alfred swung Matthew above his head, bringing him back down to cradle him against his hip. Francis watched them with a tender smile, adjusting his bag across his chest as he approached the pair. The young man's bright smile made Francis's heart flutter and he leaned in to kiss Alfred on the cheek.

"How are you, darling?" Francis asked, stroking Alfred's hair away from his face.

A blush spread across Alfred's nose and cheekbones, highlighting the smattering of freckles there.

"I'm alright," was Alfred's soft answer. "Thanks for asking."

Matthew's little hands, fisted in Alfred's T-shirt, tugged just the slightest to get his attention. Baby blue eyes slid to the boy in his arms, and Francis could just see how comfortable Matthew was around the other man. He didn't seem afraid or nervous to ask for something and he urged the adults on toward the entrance to the first exhibit. Alfred grinned, letting Matthew down to scamper in front of them, and laughed when the child didn't venture far before coming back to hold onto one of Francis's and Alfred's hands.

They had to have seen several thousand fish, a few whales, and multiple sharks (which sent Matthew into his father's arms with tears rolling down his cheeks) before things turned sour. Alfred played the hero and blocked the pair from the creatures as they made their way through the tunnel. He located a spot for Francis to sit with the boy and wipe his tears away. Having experienced Matthew's bouts of tears, Alfred knew he hated to be watched when he was upset.

He put his body between Francis and the rest of the aquarium goers, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the pair. Matthew's arms were wrapped around Francis's neck, Francis's long-fingers drawing patterns on a shivering back as he whispered in French. Cerulean eyes met his, and Francis smiled tightly. When Matthew pulled away, seeking a little more comfort from Alfred, Francis deemed it time to move on and maybe find something for lunch.

At a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant Alfred recommended, the American watched Matthew color on the back of the paper place mat with a pen Francis found in his bag. He smiled and glanced at Francis. The Frenchman was watching Alfred watch Matthew with a content little smile on his face. Alfred winked at him, setting the usually pale cheeks aflame with color.

"Mattie, what was your favorite fish at the aquarium?" Alfred asked him gently, his voice always soft and never demanding of answer.

"Mmm, I liked the whales the best, but they're not a fish, are they?" Matthew replied, looking up from his drawing at Alfred.

"You're right, they're not," Alfred told him, resting his chin in his palm.

"What was your favorite fish, _Papa_?" Matthew peered up at his father, indigo eyes bright and curious.

"That's a good question, _doux._ I think I liked the _angel_ fish the best," he said, winking at his son and eliciting a small squeak from the boy.

Cheeks flaming, Matthew burrowed against Francis's side, and Alfred smiled at the pair. He decided that there was no other place he would have rather been.

* * *

**Translations (French to English):**

_pois de senteur - _sweet pea  
_ma petite colombe - _my little dove_  
__ma douce Mathieu - _my sweet Matthew___  
__doux - _sweet**  
**


	4. Chapter 4

_**On this lovely Father's Day, I bring to you another chapter! Lots of sweet Alfred-Matthew interactions and Francis being so obviously besotted with Alfred. Ahh, young love.**_

_**Now, ages for this story (since it hasn't been broached): Francis is 28/29 and Alfred is 24/25. Not a huge gap but still at least four years. Matthew is five, in case I never state that.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

One late January evening, rain pounding against the brick building, Matthew was cowering in Alfred's arms. Francis was in the restaurant, and Alfred was learning the hard way just how thunder and rain frightened Matthew. Despite knowing the chair was a special place for Francis and Matthew, Alfred settled in the cushy piece of furniture with the boy cradled close to his chest.

"I've got you, baby. It's alright, I won't let anything hurt you," Alfred whispered, rubbing Matthew's shaking back. "Shh, shh, shh."

Matthew shifted higher in Alfred's arms, nestling his head against the crook of Alfred's neck. Strong arms wrapped around Matthew's tiny body, holding him flush against a broad chest. Alfred patted Matthew's back rhythmically as he talked him down. When speaking didn't seem to distract Matthew enough, Alfred reverted to singing.

He stood once more, tucking Matthew close, and swayed around the room as he sang, _"I love you, a bushel and a peck; a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck. A hug around the neck, and a barrel and a heap; a barrel and a heap, and I'm talkin' in my sleep about you. About you, about you. 'Cause I love you, a bushel and a peck. You bet your purdy neck I do."_

When he glanced at Matthew, the boy was suckling on his knuckle and blinking sleepily. Indigo eyes occasionally flickered up at Alfred's face, but they were rapidly drooping closed. Alfred just smiled and repeated the only verse of the song he knew until Matthew was snuffling softly in his sleep against the older man's chest. The teacher smiled and closed his eyes, resting his cheek on Matthew's downy blond hair. He continued to sway, reveling in the gentle breaths against his neck and the fluttering heartbeat against his own heart. There couldn't have been anything more beautiful in that moment, Alfred decided, because Matthew was such a special child and he felt blessed to be able to spend time with the boy.

"Alfred, darling, is everything alright?" Francis called sweetly from the doorway.

Careful not to jostle Matthew, Alfred turned and felt his cheeks turn bright red when Francis grinned at him. He ducked his head, holding the Frenchman's child close, but kept his hips moving to keep the boy comfortable.

"You never told me that he was scared of thunder," said Alfred, blue eyes locking with the tired cerulean of Francis's own eyes.

"I didn't know it was planning to storm this evening; I apologize. You seem to have handled it very well," Francis responded in such a gentle tone that Alfred found himself drawn to the older man.

"He wasn't calming down, so I-I tried singing to him," Alfred explained, moving closer to Francis.

"I know, _cher_. I've been here listening to you. Sometimes you amaze me at how tender you are with Matthew. It makes me adore you all the more. It's been so long since someone cared for both me and my child. I want to thank you for that," murmured the Frenchman, cupping a hand around Alfred's rosy cheek.

Alfred inhaled the so very familiar scent of the downstairs kitchen, food, and something deliciously Francis's own. "Don't thank me. Anyone who's lucky enough to have you should always care for Matthew as well. I swear to you that I will protect him with my life, just as I'll protect you. You're the only one who's taken an interest in all of me and not just the way I look. I think we're quite the match."

Francis laughed, the noise dripping sweetness and joy. Alfred smiled, dimples pocking his cheeks, and Francis just had to lean in and kiss those lips. The American leaned into the kiss eagerly, still holding Matthew in the protective cage of his arms, but also allowed Francis to envelope him in his delectable atmosphere.

They parted reluctantly, but Matthew was stirring and mutedly pleading for his father. Francis took his son, cooing at the boy in sugary French and carrying him off to his room. Alfred waited patiently, as always, and settled on the couch. He didn't expect to have a lapful of delectably pliable Frenchman fifteen minutes later once Matthew was asleep again.

They made love for the first time curled around one another in Francis's king-sized bed, one of the only luxuries he allowed himself in the apartment. Alfred was so talented with that mouth of his, using it to reduce Francis to a shivering mess and then grin lecherously at him. Despite it having been almost a decade since his last time as the receiving partner, Francis willingly accepted Alfred between his legs.

The young man made it worth the Frenchman's while with the way he gave so much more love than Francis could return. Their bodies connected perfectly, as if made for one another, and there was no space left between them as Alfred drew Francis closer and closer to orgasm. The noise level was low and Matthew never ventured into the bedroom. Everything went just splendidly, and the couple was sated when it was all said and done.

Alfred drew Francis's body against his own, a broad palm following the curve of his lover's back before cupping the swell of a perfectly rounded bottom. Francis smiled against Alfred's collarbone, curling close to the chest his son had just sought safety against, and lost himself in the lovely protection the American's arms created. They dozed like that, wrapped around one another and so exquisitely content.

* * *

"Alfred?"

Alfred turned and looked down to find Matthew tucking close to his legs. "What is it, baby?"

Sleepy indigo eyes peered up at Alfred and little arms wrapped around Alfred's knee. "Did you spend the night?"

"Yes, I did spend the night. Why do you ask?" Alfred asked gently, already pouring Matthew a Sippy-cup of orange juice.

"I don't want _Papa_ to get upset with you," Matthew replied, taking the Sippy-cup and immediately sucking on the hard nipple.

"Why would he be upset with me, sweetheart?" Alfred kneeled beside Matthew, touching his back and pressing him closer.

Pulling the nipple out of his mouth, Matthew glanced worriedly at his father's bedroom door. "Sometimes when Uncle Toni or Uncle Gil sleep over _Papa_ gets angry at them and I don't want him to get angry at you."

Alfred just smiled and pulled Matthew into a hug. "It was his idea for me to stay over, Mattie, so I don't think he'll be mad. Don't you worry about me."

Matthew accepted that explanation and snuggled into Alfred's arms. The American lifted Matthew, cradling him against his hip.

"Do you want to go wake your _papa_ up? We can have some breakfast and spend the day together," Alfred suggested, his palm resting on Matthew's ribs to steady him.

An excited nod and Alfred laughed, padding to Francis's door. He touched a finger to his lips, and Matthew nodded, pressing his lips together and holding his Sippy-cup close to his small chest. Creeping into the bedroom, Alfred could barely find Francis in the mass of blankets but when he set Matthew on the bed, the boy had no trouble burrowing under and locating his father. A mess of blond hair emerged from the blankets, and Alfred just smiled as he settled on the edge of the mattress.

Francis pressed his lips to Matthew's forehead, cradling the child's head in a long-fingered hand. Alfred remembered those fingers driving him crazy the night before, but pushed those particular thoughts away when Matthew squealed delightedly. Although the Frenchman looked tired and weary, he smiled and showered Matthew with all the affection he could ever ask for. The boy was snuggling into Francis's arms, still drinking from his Sippy-cup, and sighed contentedly in his father's arms.

"Did you sleep alright?" Alfred asked, smoothing the blankets down a bit nervously.

Francis caught Alfred's hand in his own and kissed the younger man's knuckles. "Yes, darling. I slept just fine."

Alfred smiled, those dimples indenting his smooth cheeks, and leaned in for a proper kiss. Matthew made a soft noise in the back of his throat, but put up no objection. When the couple parted, they found Matthew staring up at them with interest. Laughing, they kissed Matthew all over until the boy was squealing and fighting to get away. Alfred rucked up the boy's T-shirt and blew a raspberry on his stomach, delighting in Matthew's joyful cry.

Little hands pushed at Alfred's face, connecting with wire-frame glasses. The American yelped as a nosepiece was pressed into the corner of his eye and he yanked the glasses off his face. When he was finished rubbing his eye, wiping the residual tears on his sleep pants, he found Matthew cowering in Francis's lap as he let out pitiful little whimpers.

"Hey," Alfred crooned, reaching for Matthew carefully. "It's alright, Mattie. All you did was hit my glasses, but you didn't mean to. I'm not mad."

When Matthew still regarded him fearfully, curling closer to his father who stroked his hair and let the two work it out, Alfred softened his voice and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Come here, baby," he coaxed, smiling when Matthew crawled over to him. He scooped up the boy, holding him close and wiping at the watery eyes. "Everything's okay now, Matthew, I'm not angry with you. I promise."

Matthew nodded tentatively and touched Alfred's face. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Thank you, sweetheart, but I'm just fine. Now, how about we go make breakfast?"

At just the mention of breakfast, Matthew brightened considerably and fisted his little hands in Alfred's T-shirt.

"Can we have pancakes?" Matthew asked eagerly, practically vibrating in Alfred's arms.

"Of course we can," exclaimed Alfred, letting Matthew down to bolt into the main room.

Francis smiled at Alfred, drawing him in for a kiss that made the younger man gasp and moan softly. The Frenchman let a hand wander in between Alfred's shirt and pants, sliding down to cup that firm backside. Alfred just sighed and pressed closer to his lover, tangling his fingers in Francis's soft, wavy hair.

"_Papa, _Alfred, come on, I'm—_Papa, _I don't think your hand goes there."

The couple pulled away slowly and looked at Matthew for a long moment before Alfred grabbed the child up. He scattered kisses across the boy's face and neck, eliciting squeaks and crowing screams from him. Francis watched the pair, smiling indulgently until Alfred tossed Matthew on the bed.

"No, _Papa_!" Matthew keened, trying to scramble off the bed before Francis could grab him.

But Francis was faster and he snatched up his son, finding all of Matthew's ticklish spots easily. Matthew was giggling and flailing in an attempt to wiggle out of the line of Francis's skilled fingers.

"Alfred, help me," the child called, jerking when Francis's fingertips pressed against his side. "_S'il te plait!_"

Alfred laughed and swooped in, his arms lifting Matthew away from Francis. The single father let Matthew go, grinning when the boy hugged Alfred close and called him his hero. Francis could see Alfred's eyes grow a little wet, but kept quiet. He kept up his part and sat up on his knees, growling softly at Matthew as he reached for him. Matthew squealed, practically climbing onto Alfred's shoulders, and held onto the other man's head. Alfred just chuckled and proclaimed, "I'll protect you from the tickle-monster, Mattie."

Alfred's way of protecting Matthew was to set the boy on the bed and press Francis into the bed, long fingers digging into sensitive spots he'd mapped out the previous night. Francis made an unmanly squeal, twisting and pulling at the sheets to escape. Matthew trilled happily, aiding Alfred in subduing the "tickle-monster" with little hands and an attempted raspberry on Francis's belly.

When Matthew's raspberry didn't work out, Alfred ducked down and had Francis howling in no time. Finally letting the older man rest, Alfred held Matthew on his lap as Francis panted up at them. He glared at them without much venom, but had to smile when he saw Matthew look up at Alfred with that bright little grin of his. Alfred glanced down at the child and smiled back, kissing Matthew on the forehead.

"Come, sweet, let's go make breakfast," Francis crooned as he swung himself out of bed. He kissed Matthew on the nose before picking him up.

"Aww, I thought you were talking to me," Alfred pouted, following the father and son out of the bedroom.

"Oh no, I have another name for you," remarked the Frenchman as he sat Matthew in a chair at the table. He winked playfully at his lover and grinned as he turned to the refrigerator.

Matthew pulled his polar bear across the table to him, the animal having been discarded their when he'd first padded into the room, and held it close for a moment. "_Papa?_"

"Yes, _chaton?_" Francis replied as he pulled out the milk. Alfred had sidled up behind him and was kneading his hips quite nicely, making the slighter man all but melt into his arms.

"What were you and Alfred doing when I came to get you?" Matthew's voice was soft and so low the two men almost could hear him.

"We were kissing, _Mathieu_. You know what kissing is," his father answered, putting a hand on Alfred's own.

"I know what kissing it," Matthew repeated. "But you were closer and your hand was…"

Francis chuckled. "_Amour_, sometimes when two people are in love they do things like that. If I made you uncomfortable, I apologize."

"No, it's alright. I just didn't understand, I guess."

"Hey," Alfred said gently, pulling away from Francis to crouch beside Matthew. "If you don't understand anything, you can always ask me or your _papa_. Don't be afraid to ask us anything, sweetie pie, alright?"

At Matthew's nod, Alfred smiled at him and saw indigo eyes brighten.

"Can I tell you something, Mattie?" Alfred mock-whispered, leaning closer to the boy and continued when Matthew nodded once again. "I think I may love your _papa_. Is that alright with you?"

"_Oui, oui!"_ Matthew crowed excitedly, his smile lighting up the room.

Alfred sighed contentedly, stroking Matthew's hair, and snuck a glance at Francis. The other man was watching him and smiling wistfully, tears making his cerulean eyes look glossy. The American stood, collecting Francis into his arms and kissing him on the forehead.

"I love you too, Alfred. More than you could ever know," Francis breathed, tucking himself against Alfred's broad chest.

A little body pressed itself against their legs and the couple looked down. Matthew peered up at them with big blue eyes and a badly hidden smile. "Does this mean that I get to have two _papas_?"

Francis and Alfred just laughed and hoisted the child into their arms. Their little family had been broken, but a little love had fixed what had been thought irreparable.


	5. Chapter 5

The bell above the door jangled as it was opened and closed. It was slow around the restaurant and Matthew was seated at a table near the kitchen with the host, a sweet and lively Italian named Feliciano, a box of crayons, and endless sheets of paper. Alfred grinned at the boy as he clambered down from his seat, kneeling to take Matthew into his arms.

"Hey, sugar bear. How've you been?" Alfred crooned, standing with Matthew still cradled against his chest.

"Good. _Papa's_ in the kitchen with Uncle Gil and Uncle Toni. I was coloring with Feli. Do you want to see what I drew?" Matthew said in a rush, smiling widely.

"Of course I want to see it," replied the American, letting Matthew down to scamper back to the table.

Feliciano smiled at Alfred and moved a few unfinished drawings for Matthew to grab the one he took the most time on.

"Look," Matthew proclaimed, standing in the chair and pushing the piece of paper into Alfred's hands. "It's you, me, and _Papa._"

Alfred pressed his fist to his mouth, eyes flickering over the shaky stick figures but understanding the sentiment. Just seeing the little drawing made his heart clench tightly as if it was about to burst with emotion.

"You can take it back to your house if you want," offered Matthew, little hands sifting through papers. "I drew another one for _Papa_ to put on our fridge here."

After a moment, Matthew asked a little nervously, "Do you like it?"

"Yes, Matthew. I-I love it, sweetheart. Thank you so much," Alfred breathed, collecting the child into his arms once more. "Thank you."

As Alfred turned to nudge the kitchen door open with his hip, Feliciano got up to seat a couple that had come in. Francis was bent over a pan, pushing vegetables around with a spoon and shouting something at Gilbert. When he turned and caught sight of Alfred, he smiled that lovely smile of his and held up a finger as he darted over to his saucier.

Once Francis could take a break, he cupped Alfred's face and kissed the American four times before he gave Matthew four of his own kisses. Matthew squealed delightedly and tossed his arms around his father's neck. Francis took the boy and held him close, looking every part the enamored father. Alfred found himself falling in love with the Frenchman all over again.

"_Papa_, look what I drew for you and Alfred," Matthew urged, reaching for the paper Alfred held.

Francis took the piece of paper gently, as if he knew something precious was drawn on it, and smiled at what he found. "It's beautiful, _pois de senteur_."

"That's you, me, and Alfred. Like we're a family!"

Although Francis's eyes looked suspiciously wet, Alfred didn't mention it and just tugged the slender man close. He kissed both of those who held his heart, making sure to give Matthew extra sloppy ones knowing full well how it made the boy squirm. Francis laughed, smoothing Matthew's hair and kissing the boy's forehead before letting him down.

"Go back out with Feliciano. Alfred and I need a moment alone, sweet," Francis cooed, patting Matthew on the backside as he pushed open the kitchen doors. Turning back to Alfred, Francis smiled and took his hand.

"What did you need, darling?" Francis asked, smiling despite himself at the taller man.

Alfred didn't answer right away, just drawing Francis's arms around his neck and sliding his arms around a thin waist. "I wanted to see if you'd go out on a date with me tonight. If you're busy, I understand, but I want to take you somewhere nice and show you off."

Francis's smile turned indulgent as Alfred brushed kisses against his jaw and neck. "I'd love to, Alfred, but we're a bit short staffed today."

"That's a fucking lie and you know it, Francis," Gilbert cut in, shaking a pan and simultaneously finishing off a dish. He set the plate on a tray already laden with food, and a waiter scooped it up, pushing out through the doors into the dining room. "We've got three more people coming on tonight for the dinner rush and Toni can take over for you. Go out, you've been cooped up in here for weeks without a breather."

Sighing a bit, Francis turned back to Alfred, who was grinning delightedly.

"Alright, I'll go out with you tonight, but no clubs because I'm getting too old for that scene." Francis laughed when Alfred lifted and spun him around in a little circle. When he was set back on his feet, he cupped Alfred's jaw in his hands and kissed him lovingly.

"I'll come back by to get you around seven, alright? Dress nicely, but not overly so," Alfred instructed, smoothing his hands over Francis's narrow shoulders. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, _mon petit lapin._ I need to get back to work but I'll see you tonight," Francis murmured, kissing Alfred once more before pulling away. "Take this out to _Mathieu _for me, please."

Alfred took the small bowl of pasta and kissed Francis on the forehead before pushing through the swinging doors. Matthew was perched on Feliciano's lap when Alfred returned to the dining room, looking a bit testy and irritated. When he spotted Alfred and the bowl, he instantly perked up.

"He was getting upset because Francis didn't want him in the kitchen anymore and he's hungry. I was hoping Francis had made him something to eat," Feliciano remarked, fetching a napkin and fork for the child as Alfred set the bowl down in front of the boy's seat.

"_Merci beaucoup_, Alfred," Matthew trilled, that bright little smile of his melting Alfred's heart.

"You're welcome, baby doll. I have to go now, but I'm coming by tonight to pick up your _papa_. We have a _date_." Alfred crouched beside Matthew's chair, and the child turned to look at him with a forkful of pasta in his mouth.

After chewing and swallowing—his father didn't bend when it came to table manners—Matthew asked, "What's a date?"

"It's when two adults that care about one another go out to spend time together. I'm taking your _papa_ to a nice restaurant and then we're going dancing," Alfred said with a big smile, and Matthew practically wiggled with excitement.

"_Papa _loves to dance. He always dances with me, especially if he's making us dinner, but sometimes he just turns on music and we dance together. It's a lot of fun because _Papa's_ a really good dancer," Matthew spit out all in one breath, little hand still holding his fork but his food forgotten.

Alfred smiled and unfolded himself from the floor. "I'll come see you tonight before we leave. Be good and eat your lunch."

Matthew obeyed Alfred's demand, shifting to continue eating, but turned his face up at Alfred when the American stooped to kiss him on the forehead. "Bye, Alfred."

"Bye, Mattie," Alfred crooned, smoothing soft, wavy hair down before turning to leave. As he was reaching for the doorknob, he felt something tug at his jeans.

Holding his drawing tightly in one hand and a handful of Alfred's jeans in the other, Matthew panted softly. "You forgot this."

Alfred took the paper and grinned. "Thank you for reminding me. I'll see you tonight, okay, buddy?"

With an eager nod, Matthew scampered back over to his table and climbed up into his chair. Feliciano set a small glass of what looked like sparkling juice next to Matthew's bowl and smoothed the child's hair. Alfred pulled open the door, casting one last glace at Matthew before shutting it behind him as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

…

"_Mathieu_, Alfred is here," Francis called through the apartment, embracing his lover and kissing the American gently.

A small body clambered off the couch and Alfred grinned, kneeling to catch Matthew in his arms. Francis stood by the pair, smiling at how Alfred kissed Matthew on the cheek and the child tossed his arms around the younger man's neck.

"Do you and Alfred _have_ to go out, _Papa?_" Matthew asked, resting his head on Alfred's shoulder.

"Yes, _mon petit,_ but we'll be back in a few hours. Aunt Laura is going to stay with you tonight, alright?"

At Matthew's reluctant nod, Francis smiled and kissed the boy on the cheek before touching Alfred's shoulder. "Can you keep an eye on him for just a few more minutes? I need to finish getting ready."

"Of course," Alfred replied easily, holding Matthew close and kissing the boy on the head. "Do what you need to do."

Francis kissed Alfred swiftly before gracefully hopping over several toys in the floor and disappearing into his bedroom. Alfred situated Matthew so the boy faced him and he grew concerned at the distance on Matthew's face.

"What's the matter, honey bee? What's got you so upset?" Alfred murmured, tucking stray hair behind Matthew's ear.

"I don't want you and _Papa_ to leave tonight," Matthew said, hushed and sincere.

"Why is that?" was Alfred's gentle question as he moved toward Matthew's room.

With much more maturity than Alfred thought possible for a five-year-old Matthew looked the American in the eye and chewed his lip. "I don't feel right."

"About what?" Alfred kept a neutral tone as he kneeled beside Matthew's fort in his room. The fort more so resembled a nest, with all the blankets and pillows and little nooks carved out for Matthew's tiny body. Alfred knew how much Matthew loved his fort, running to protect it anytime its destruction was mentioned.

"You and _Papa_ leaving. When I think about it, my belly gets full of butterflies and I get scared. Alfred, please don't leave me. I don't want something to happen to you and _Papa_." Matthew, settled on Alfred's lap as the American lounged inside the fort, began breathing heavily and tears formed quickly in indigo eyes.

"Shhh, don't cry, Mattie. I'll talk to your _Papa_, alright? Everything will be okay," Alfred crooned, smoothing the child's hair and wiping away tears.

As Alfred crawled out of the fort, Matthew grabbed for his shirt sleeve. "Please don't leave."

When he looked, Alfred saw the terror in Matthew's gaze and couldn't bear for something to happen to this child's last parent. "I won't leave you, sweetheart. I'll be right back in two minutes. Stay right here for me."

Matthew nodded miserably, picking up his stuffed polar bear and holding it tight. Alfred pulled Matthew's door closed behind him and caught Francis fiddling with his tie in the mirror beside the door.

"Francis," Alfred called softly, less giddy about their date after Matthew's confession. "I need to talk to you."

"What is it, sweet?" Francis asked, smoothing his hair and turning to smile at his lover. At the concern laced across Alfred's face, Francis sobered and stepped closer. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

"It's Matthew. He's in tears because he doesn't want us to leave him. He told me that he thinks something bad is going to happen to us if we leave. When he thinks about us leaving, his belly gets full of butterflies and he gets scared. I don't think we should go out tonight," Alfred explained, voice quick and quiet as to not alert Matthew of their conversation.

Francis's only response was a short, "We're not leaving him," before he pushed past into Matthew's room.

A softly sobbed, _"Papa,"_ was all Alfred heard before Francis was cooing in fast, soothing French. Alfred followed the older man, finding the father and son curled up in the fort. He smiled, watching Francis situate Matthew in a nestled out part of a blanket and stroke his hair away from his face until the boy was calmed.

"Alfred," Matthew called hesitantly, peeking around the fort's blanketed entrance. "Come in with me and _Papa_."

"I don't know if I can fit, babe," Alfred teased, squeezing himself into the normally spacious fort.

With his broad shoulders, there wasn't much room leftover but Matthew made himself comfortable between Francis and Alfred. Francis smiled, not caring in the least that his newly pressed pants and shirt were getting wrinkled, and brushed his knuckle against Matthew's cheek. He looked at Alfred and sighed wistfully, leaning in to kiss the American on the forehead.

"I love you," he whispered, smiling despite himself when Matthew's little hand found his. "Both of you."

"I love the both of you, too," Alfred said, tilting his head up to kiss Francis and down to brush his nose against Matthew's. The boy giggled a little drowsily and touched Alfred's face.

"I love you and _Papa_ more than anything."

Both Alfred and Francis chuckled, their eyes a bit watery, and kissed Matthew until those dark eyes were drooping.

Francis cuddled the boy closer. "Go to sleep, _précieux_. We won't leave you."

"Can Alfred sing to me again?" Matthew peeled his eyes open to peer up at Alfred, who nodded and smiled widely.

"Of course, baby." He smoothed Matthew's hair, cupping his hand around a soft cheek. "Close your eyes for me."

When Matthew obliged, Alfred cleared his throat and his honey-sweet voice began to croon, "_Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go. Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go. I hate to leave you, but I really must say, oh, goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight. Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go. Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go. I hate to leave you, but I really must say, oh, goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight. Well, it's three o'clock in the morning, and, baby, I can just get it right. Well, I hate to leave you, baby, don't leave, baby, because I love you so. Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go. Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go. I hate to leave you, but I really must say, oh, goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight…"_


	6. Chapter 6

_**well I kind of suck since I've only been updating this story and discontinued two of my others, but this is the internet and I can do what I want. I absolutely adore writing this fic and I hope you all enjoy reading it!**_

* * *

Francis held Matthew on his lap as they lounged in the recliner together the next morning. Matthew drank slowly from a Sippy-cup of orange juice, dark eyes drooping closed before he opened them sharply again. The news played on their television, volume turned down low as Alfred was still sleeping in Francis's room. When Matthew cuddled closer to Francis's chest, nuzzling his head underneath the Frenchman's chin, his father shifted him until the boy was relaxed and only occasionally sipping his juice.

It wasn't long before Francis's gentle patterns on Matthew's belly had the child asleep once more. He smiled softly down at his son, brushing downy blond hair away from Matthew's face and reveling in the gift God had given him. Despite being angry at his God for taking away his wife, Matthew was still something to be cherished and protected.

A warm hand smoothed Francis's hair and the older man jumped, looking up just in time for a pair of soft lips to press against his forehead. Alfred smiled lazily, padding over to the coffee pot as Francis recovered. It had been far too long since someone had shown such open affection to the Frenchman and it still startled him when Alfred kissed him without prompting. He was beginning to enjoy it, actually.

"Oh, God," Alfred whispered, eyes trained on the television when Francis looked up at him.

"What is it?" Francis asked, scanning the screen for the story.

"That's the street we would have been on last night. That's the restaurant I was going to take you to," Alfred breathed, looking down at Francis and Matthew. "But Matthew told us not to go."

Francis chewed the inside of his cheek as he watched the television. Police were swarmed around the restaurant where a fluke killing had taken place the evening before. His breath came a bit quicker and his grip on Matthew tightened. The boy stirred a bit, but settled soon after and stretched out in his father's arms "He couldn't have known. It's just a coincidence."

"He has always been much attuned to the atmosphere of situations. It's possible that he felt something bad would happen," Alfred said, sitting on the arm of the couch beside the chair and bending low to kiss Matthew on the forehead. He smoothed downy blond hair back and smiled when Matthew sighed softly in his sleep.

Without an acknowledgement to Alfred's statement, Francis cradled the boy close and pressed his lips to Matthew's hairline. Thoughts of leaving the child with no parent and no family besides the restaurant staff swirled in his mind. He muttered an almost inaudible prayer in French although he hadn't prayed since before Matthew was born. At a tentative touch, Francis looked up to find Alfred watching him a little worriedly.

"Don't think about what could have happened, Francis. We're all safe and sound," Alfred hushed, kissing Francis until he relaxed against the chair and looked more willing to listen. "I love you."

A sated smile and Francis sighed, "I love you, too."

"What do you want for breakfast? I'll cook," Alfred offered, sipping from his mug of coffee.

"_Mathieu_ will probably want pancakes," Francis started.

"No," Alfred cut in sharply. "That's not what I asked. What do _you_ want for breakfast?"

Francis smiled. "Your best American breakfast: eggs, sausage, and toast. Everything."

"I can do that," Alfred replied with a grin. He kissed Francis full on the mouth, delighting in the way the Frenchman almost melted against the chair. When he pulled back, panting gently against full lips, Alfred whispered, "Stay here and relax with Matthew. Do you want more coffee?"

"No, thank you. If you need any help, just ask." Francis stole one more kiss before Alfred stood and made his way back to the kitchen.

* * *

Matthew was very reluctant to let Francis and Alfred out on another date, but was eventually peeled away from the couple by Gilbert. The albino held Matthew close, rocking the boy and hushing any of his pitifully weak sniffles as Francis kissed him goodbye.

"We'll call you when we get to the movie theater, I promise," Francis assured them both, smoothing a hand down Matthew's back and smiling at his son. "We won't be gone very long, sweet, I promise."

Gilbert kissed Matthew on the head and nodded. "We'll be just fine here. I'll keep him busy."

Francis kissed Gilbert on the cheek and sighed, "Thank you for keeping him. He feels much safer with you than any of the others."

"It's not a problem. I'd rather spend my evening with him than alone in my apartment. We'll have fun, won't we, buddy?" At the question, Matthew nodded a little miserably but seemed to relax in Gilbert's arms.

"Be good, _Mathieu_, and we'll be home in a few hours," Francis crooned, kissing Matthew once more before he stepped out into the hallway.

Alfred, holding the apartment door open for Francis, smiled comfortingly at the child and gave him a little wave. "Bye, sweetheart, we'll see you in a little while."

When they were gone, Gilbert tucked some hair away from Matthew's face and patted him on the back gently. "It's just you and me, little one. What do you want to do tonight?"

No answer, but Matthew did sigh heavily before nuzzling his face against the crook of Gilbert's neck.

"Let's sit down and have a little chat, okay?" Gilbert moved to the sofa and stretched out with Matthew resting against his chest. "Has Alfred been good to you, Mattie?"

Mentioning Alfred had Matthew perking up quickly. He sat up and little hands gripped Gilbert's T-shirt. "Alfred's really nice. Why?"

"I just want to make sure he's treating you and your _papa_ like you should be treated. What have you guys been doing together?" Gilbert asked, tucking one arm behind his head.

"While _Papa_ was working, Alfred took me to the park and helped me find leaves and rocks and even told me what kind they were. He likes to watch, um, hockey sometimes, too, and it looks really cool. He said that he played once but he hasn't in a while. He promised to take me and _Papa_ ice skating sometime. I really hope we can go soon," Matthew spouted off quickly, practically vibrating with excitement.

Gilbert smiled genuinely at Matthew, who couldn't help but grin back. "That sounds exciting, _Schätzchen_. I'm glad you two are having so much fun together."

Matthew was much more pliant and easier to manage after their talk. He picked out a movie for them to watch while Gilbert heated up two portions of leftover spaghetti that was in the refrigerator. Francis usually was not one to keep leftover food, but Alfred almost always insisted if the meal was good enough to warrant keeping the rest.

The phone rang while Gilbert was leaning into the refrigerator so Matthew bounded over to the nearest telephone and picked it up with only a little difficulty. "_Papa?_"

"Hello, _mon ange_, is Gilbert there?" Francis replied sweetly.

"Mmmhmm," Matthew hummed, and then called, "Uncle Gil!"

Gilbert was at his side and taking the telephone in a moment, scooping Matthew up to kiss him on the cheek. Matthew giggled and held onto his caretaker's neck.

"_Hallo_, Francis. Are you and Alfred at the theater?" Gilbert asked, bouncing Matthew a little to get the child to laugh again.

"_Oui_, everything is fine so far. What are you and Matthew doing this evening? Did he finally open up to you?"

"We had a little talk after you guys left and now he's just fine. We're going to eat dinner and watch a movie," Gilbert said, sitting Matthew on the counter beside the refrigerator and giving him his Sippy-cup of juice.

"If he starts to get upset again, just give me a call and I can talk to him. Give him my love." Francis whispered something to Alfred, a breathy laugh, and Gilbert couldn't help but smile. It'd been a long time since he'd heard Francis laugh.

"Matthew," Gilbert crooned, smiling when those indigo eyes met his. "Your _papa_ loves you. Tell him you love him, too."

"_Je t'aime, Papa!_" Matthew cried happily, almost wiggling on the counter.

Gilbert laughed and returned the phone to his ear. "I'm sure we'll be alright. You two be safe."

"We will. See you in a few hours," Francis said, and Gilbert agreed before they hung up.

"Alright, buddy, this spaghetti looks about done. Why don't you put in the DVD and we'll get this party started," Gilbert suggested, helping Matthew down from the counter. The boy pattered over to the television and Gilbert focused on plating their dinner.

Settling on the floor at the coffee table, the pair ate as Finding Nemo played on the television. Matthew occasionally pointed at the television, wiggling excitedly on his stack of pillows, and Gilbert just smiled, indulging him with his attention. When Matthew ate his fill of pasta, Gilbert finished off the child's plate and cleaned the dishes before scooping the boy up and plopping them on the sofa. Matthew snuggled up against Gilbert's chest, hands tucked underneath his cheek as he watched the animated fish.

Just as the clown fish made it to Sydney, Matthew was dozing fitfully. The slightest shift woke him and Gilbert cupped the curve of his skull, stroking his hair to soothe him back to sleep. The albino flipped through TV channels once Matthew was more peaceful until he settled on a how-it's-made show. It wasn't until another hour-long episode that Gilbert got a text to say Francis and Alfred were on their way home.

When the apartment door opened, Matthew jumped and peered over the couch blearily. Gilbert shushed him and stood, cradling the child against his chest.

"How was everything?" Francis asked, taking Matthew when the boy reached for him.

"We did just fine, as I told you we would. He was very calm and even dozed off while we watched that Pixar fish movie. He was a sweetheart as always," Gilbert replied, running long fingers through Matthew's curls. His voice turned into a sugary coo, "I just can't get over how precious he is."

Matthew smiled tiredly, snuggling against his father's throat. He propped his chin on Francis's shoulder and looked at Alfred, who smiled at him. The American swooped in, cupping Matthew's face in his hands, and kissed the boy on the forehead.

"I got your _papa_ home safe, just like I promised. Everything's alright now," he whispered, touching his lips to the tip of Matthew's nose. "I love you."

"_Je t'aime_," Matthew breathed, already dozing once more.

Alfred cradled Matthew's head and rested it on Francis's shoulder, smoothing the child's hair. He touched Francis's back and kissed the tender spot behind the Frenchman's ear. "I have to go. I'll come by and pick up Matthew in the morning."

Francis turned and grinned at the American. "He'll be waiting for you eagerly, I'm sure. _Je t'aime, chéri._"

"I love you, too." Alfred kissed Francis softly before giving Gilbert a wave and turning to leave.

"Bye, Alfred," Matthew rasped, not even acknowledging Alfred's departure by looking up.

"Bye, Mattie. I'll see you tomorrow morning," Alfred replied, leaning in to kiss Matthew on the top of the head before he left.

Gilbert left soon after, but not before he stole several kisses from Matthew. The boy smiled tiredly and let his "uncle" do as he wished. Francis held him close as he closed the door behind Gilbert and slid the locks into place. He kissed Matthew on the forehead, walking slowly toward the boy's room.

"I knew you and Gilbert would be just fine, _chère_. Alfred and I made it home safe and sound," Francis murmured, nudging Matthew's door open with his hip.

The boy blinked drowsily, making him alert enough to help his father dress him for bed. Francis tugged Matthew's sleep shirt over his head, a well-worn red T-shirt that Francis only loved because Matthew loved it. Although Francis loved the finer things in life, he never forced Matthew into fancy clothes. He let his son be a child and only sighed a little bit when the boy came back to him at the park covered in mud. Tucking Matthew into his bed, Francis sat on the side of the mattress and leaned down to kiss the warm forehead.

"Sleep well, _mon trésor_. _Laissez le matin apporter quelque chose de délicieux."_ Francis smoothed Matthew's hair away from his face and smiled as the boy turned over onto his stomach. He stayed, perched on the edge of the bed, and rubbed the boy's back until he was sleeping peacefully. It wasn't easy to creep out of Matthew's room without waking the boy considering he slept so lightly, but Francis had long perfected that skill. He turned on Matthew's nightlight, placed his stuffed polar bear on the bed beside the boy, and left the door cracked to let a bit of light from the living room leak in. It gave Matthew a sense of safety when he wasn't in complete darkness and Francis would leave on every light in their apartment to make his child feel safe.

* * *

Nursing a cup of coffee and reading to Matthew from a French newspaper, Francis was still groggy when there was a knock on the apartment door. He rose slowly, laughing when Matthew immediately shot to the door and attempted to reach the locks for himself. The door was unlocked, opened, and Matthew threw himself at Alfred's legs. The American laughed, crouching to sweep the boy into his arms, and kissed Francis full on the mouth.

"Good morning, beautiful," Alfred purred and grinned rakishly at his lover.

Francis smiled a bit sleepily and let Alfred tug him close to his chest. "_Bonjour, mon amour._"

Feeling left out, Matthew curled his fingers into Alfred's dress shirt and tugged gently. The American glanced at him, still holding Francis around the waist, and smiled.

"Hey, pumpkin, are you ready to go?" Alfred asked, laughing when Matthew nodded excitedly. He shifted and closed the door behind him, already collecting Francis back into his arms.

"Get your shoes on, sweet, and you and Alfred can get going," Francis urged as Alfred stooped to let Matthew down.

Leaning back against the door, Alfred pulled Francis tight and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I still want to know how you manage to look so absolutely stunning at any time of day."

"And I still want to know how you manage to have so much energy this early in the morning," Francis bit back jokingly.

"I'm ready, Alfred, I'm ready," Matthew cried, hopping on one foot to pull on his shoes and make it back to the adults.

The American just laughed, and Francis pulled away to let him to pick up Matthew. He bent at the waist to grab the boy's backpack, and Alfred took it from him.

"Are you going to pick him up this afternoon? I need to stay late to organize some things," Alfred said, helping Matthew into his coat with one hand.

"I'll see if I can take a break to get him, or get one of the others to come," Francis replied, kissing Matthew on the cheek. "Be good, _Mathieu_, and I'll see you later today."

"Bye, _Papa_," Matthew trilled and leaned out of Alfred's arms to kiss Francis.

Alfred pecked Francis on the lips, smiling brightly with those dimples of his. "I love you."

"_Je t'aime aussi._" Francis stroked a stray hair away from Alfred's face and smiled lovingly. "Have a good day."

Alfred just grinned and bounced Matthew a little in his arms as he swept out into the hall.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Laissez le matin apporter quelque chose de délicieux -_ Let the morning bring something delightful (literally delicious, but that wasn't my intention)


End file.
